


Once In A Lifetime

by cryptomoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Plot, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Dean/Canon Dean, Dimension Travel, M/M, Parallel Universes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Self-cest, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/pseuds/cryptomoon
Summary: Dean stumbles as he lands on the other side of the portal. He looks around cautiously, braced for an attack. It doesn't matter how different each dimension is, the other Deans he encounters tend to shoot first and ask questions later.Aka that one where Dean gets fucked over a table by a demon version of himself.





	Once In A Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_dusky_gold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dusky_gold/gifts).



> A fill for a truly ancient emoji prompt from a_dusky_gold on the [ProfoundBond Discord](https://wiki.profoundbond.net) server.  
> 
> 
> This is about six months late, but it's finished! This is the first explicit scene I've really written. So I hope you like!
> 
> Thanks so much to [saltnhalo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo) for holding my hand and being basically the greatest beta ever. This never would have seen the light of day without her help and definitely wouldn't have been worth reading. Thanks as well to [EllenOfOz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz) for the help with my utterly atrocious grasp of English grammar!

Dean stumbles as he lands on the other side of the portal. He looks around cautiously, braced for an attack. It doesn't matter how different each dimension is, the other Deans he encounters tend to shoot first and ask questions later. 

So far this dimension looks pretty much the same as _home_ and there's no crazy other!Dean trying to chop his head off. 

Maybe this version of the bunker is the real one? Well, not _real_ , since according to the second-portal-Sam they're all real, but _his reality_. Maybe this version is _home_. With _his_ Sam and _his_ Cas. 

He cautiously walks out of the kitchen where he appeared, where he always appears, listening intently for any sign of Sam or Cas—or another Dean. 

As he makes his way across the war room toward the hallway he hears a deep chuckle from above him. 

"Well, well. _You're_ definitely not from around here."

Dean spins around and levels his gun at... well, at himself. The other Dean is leaning casually against the railing at the top of the stairs. He doesn't seem bothered in the slightest by the gun pointed at his easy grin. 

"Don't fuckin' move, asshole. I'm tired and I'm about a thousand percent done dealing with dicks wearing my face." Dean clicks the hammer back on his gun, ignoring how his arm shakes from the days of doing this over and over again. 

"Now now, that's no way to treat your host!" The other Dean saunters down the stairs, never taking his eyes off Dean. "Why don't you sit down. You look tired as hell, man. Let me make you a cup a’ coffee."

Dean side steps toward the hall, keeping his eyes on his other self. "Look, I just wanna get home, so I'm gonna head to the basement, hop through the portal, and be outta your hair." 

"I see. So, you're gonna head on down to _my_ basement. Use _my_ spell ingredients. Hop through a portal leaving scorch marks on _my_ floor. And what? Do nothing for me?" The other Dean clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "That's pretty inconsiderate, dude."

Dean sighs and lowers his gun, easing down the hammer and clicking the safety on. He presses his thumb and forefinger between his brows—anything to ease his fucking killer headache. A guy pushing 40 isn't really meant to jump dimensions as many times as he has the past few days. 

"Alright. Fuck it,” he bites out. “I'll play along. What do you want from me in exchange?" 

The other Dean grins wide and looks Dean up and down slowly. "This is really a once in a lifetime opportunity. Well, it is for _me,_ anyway. Damn it really is too bad Cas ain't here. He'd be _all_ over this. I mean, how often do you get a chance to fuck yourself?”

Dean's heart gives one firm thump and he feels his ears turn hot. "That's hilarious man, really, but I, uh—"

Other Dean smirks and slinks across the few feet remaining to stand in front of Dean. 

"I'm really not joking. Don't act like the idea isn't pretty fuckin awesome. Just think about it. I know every inch of you, because it's every inch of _me_. I know every spot that makes you go weak. Yeah,” he adds, before Dean can even think of protesting. “Even _that_ one."

Dean chokes on air. He doesn't want to agree, but—he also didn't mean to gasp when the other Dean placed a firm hand on the center of his chest and pushed him back against the war room table. 

He's tired, man. 

He's been running from one shitty dimension to another for days tryin' to get back home. 

_It's not like I’m ever going to come back here._

What is the harm of a little down time? 

A little _me_ time.

"So that's the deal, huh?” Dean drags his hand back through his hair. “We have a little _me-on-me_ fun and then you let me waltz on outta here no questions asked?" He makes a little walking motion with his fingers and tilts his chin down a bit to catch the eyes of the other Dean. 

"I'll more than let you waltz outta here." The other Dean licks across the front of his teeth, and watches in amusement as Dean's eyes flick down to his tongue and then back to his eyes. "I happen to know a thing or two about dimensional travel. I can make sure that when you do your walk a' shame through that portal it'll be right back into the right dimension."

Dean blinks, shakes his head, and raises a hand between them. 

"Wait a second. You know a _thing or two_ about dimensional travel?" He pushes against the other Dean's shoulder to put a few inches between them and squints at him. 

"Yep. I've been around a lot longer than you, _Dean_. I know about _all kinds_ of things." The other Dean shrugs and winks as his green eyes flicker to black.

"Jesus _fuck_!" Dean shoves the demon version of himself— _a demon—_ hard. " _I'm a demon_? Do you have the mark?"

The demon's eyes flick back to green and he cocks an eyebrow. 

"A mark? I—"

"Don't fuck with me, man, I went through all this shit." Dean grabs the other Dean's arm and yanks his sleeve up to his elbow. There’s no mark. Nothing but a smooth, somewhat pale forearm dusted with a few freckles.

The demon takes Dean's hand off his arm gently and claps his free hand on Dean's shoulder. 

"I honestly don't know what mark you're talking about, or what me being a demon and you being a human means in your dimension, but I’ve been a demon since the dawn of creation, man. Like, fuckin' _eons_. So whatever mark you're worried about? I ain't got it."

Dean stares at the demon in front of him. His eyes drift from his arm—covered by red flannel that he is positive he has in his duffel at home—to the bump on the bridge of his nose, to that one freckle under his eye that's bigger than all the rest.

He takes a shaky breath. 

"Yeah, alright. _Alright_. Okay. So, what? You're a demon like Cas is an angel? Like just..." he makes a vague flapping motion with his hand. 

"Something like that." Demon Dean chuckles. "Look, I don't really want to get into a theology lesson here. How about that deal we were talkin' about huh?" He smirks and reaches up to straighten the collar of Dean's jacket. "Remember? Once in a lifetime opportunity plus a free first-class ticket back to home sweet home?"

What does Dean really have to lose? Worst case, he has to gank another version of himself. It wouldn't be the first time. 

Best case, he has the world's trippiest jerk off session and gets to finally go home. Like, his actual _honest to god_ home where Sam and Cas are probably tearing up half the country looking for him and he doesn't drive a fucking _Toyota Corolla_. Dean shudders at the memory of the fourth portal. 

He takes a half step forward, closing the last few inches between him and his other self. "Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “Fuck it. I'm game."

The other Dean smiles and reaches toward Dean slowly, as though he’s testing the waters.

"Really? _Awesome_." He slides his hands around Dean's waist under his shirt, pressing his thumbs into his hip bones and crowding him against the table again. "Now, where were we?" 

The firm pressure of those hands pushing him into the edge of the table, just this side of too hard, is perfect. Dean groans and tips his head back. 

"See?" The other Dean grips tighter, his fingers digging in harder, hard enough to bruise, as he lifts Dean up onto the edge of the table. " _Every_ spot."

Dean hooks one hand around the back of the demon's neck and wraps his legs around his waist, using them to drag him all the way forward.

It dawns on Dean, then, that _this is him_. Well, not _him_ him, but close enough. Actually. It's a supernatural ancient demon version of him, so fuck. 

Even better. 

Dean grins and sits up straighter, grinding forward and digging the heels of his boots into the back of the demon's thighs. He knows how much he can take. Knows how hard is too hard, and how hard _isn't hard enough_.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," the demon mutters and surges forward to catch Dean's lips against his own, licking into his mouth. He drags his blunt nails up Dean's ribs, scrunching his shirt up around his chest. Pushing his hands up over Dean's shoulders, he drags his jacket down his arms and onto the floor. Breaking the kiss, the demon looks down at Dean, his pupils wide and black. "We look pretty damn good like this." 

Dean rolls his eyes. "Less looking, more fuckin'. You can appreciate the view anytime," he gasps, trying to pretend that he isn’t already out of breath. Reaching back, he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it off to the side. 

The other Dean barks out a sudden laugh as his eye catches on the symbol inked into Dean’s chest. "Oh! I get it,” he nods, “okay." 

Dean frowns and narrows his eyes, "Hey, asshole. Did you not hear what I just said?" He hooks a finger through one of the demon's belt loops and tugs him forward.

Other Dean smiles crookedly, his eyes crinkling, and pecks a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. “Sorry, darlin’.” Dean yanks harshly on his belt loop, just because he can, and hooks his thumb under the button of the demon’s jeans. He dips forward and licks up the center of the other man’s lips, then pops the button open. When he eases down the zipper, he feels something soft and _familiar_ ghost across his knuckles, and pulls back with a grunt. 

The other Dean smirks and quirks an eyebrow. Dean stares at him for a second before growling, “Oh, fuck _yes_ ,” and shoving his jeans down as far as he can reach. 

He pushes the demon back an inch with a palm against his chest so that he can look down at the soft pink lace stretched across his hips where they’re pressed against his own. 

There is something about seeing it from the perspective of _someone else_. Pink lace stretched across muscular thighs. Thick cock straining against the soft fabric. Swollen head peaking out above the ruffled waistband. Holy _shit_. Dean pushes his forehead into the crook of the demon’s shoulder for a moment, holding him around the hips. _Goddamn_. He takes a deep breath and spins them both around to press against the edge of the table, dragging his hands up the demon’s arms and kissing him hard. It’s a little weird—the kiss is familiar and strange at the same time, and he can anticipate every dart of tongue and drag of teeth, but the shape of the lips against his are new. 

One hand unbuttons the front of the other Dean's flannel, while he runs the fingers of the other across the ribbon that is woven through the delicate lace, stretched across the swell of the demon’s ass. He pushes the shirt off and onto the floor, sinking to his knees to bite at the soft fabric while pulling off the other man’s boots. 

The other Dean’s smug chuckle turns into a breathy gasp as Dean drags the jeans the rest of the way off, then presses his face into the crook of the other man’s leg, breathing deep.

Dean rubs the tip of his nose along the waistband of the panties, to the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock and a _little bit_ to the left. He knows how it feels when it’s his lube-slicked thumb rubbing over the soft-scratchy fabric and teasing. He knows how he has always imagined it would feel if it was a wet tongue and the ghost of hot breath.

He rubs his thumbs in firm circles into the demon’s hip bones, mirroring what the other man had done to him before, and hooks his pinkies into the panties, easing them down just enough to let the flushed cock bounce free. The head bumps against his stubbled chin before he catches it in his mouth. 

It’s been awhile since he’s had a cock is his mouth. It’s definitely strange to think that he’s _technically_ sucking his own cock—well, kinda. It’s almost not fair, like having a cheat sheet or something.

Flattening his tongue, he slides it slowly down the vein on the underside of the demon’s cock while pushing his lips as far down the shaft as he can manage. When it bumps at the back of his throat, he swallows, and pauses to blink away the few tears that spring up at the sensation. He takes a few deep breaths through his nose. 

“Oh _jesus_. Look at that.” The other Dean groans and slides a hand into Dean’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Dean looks up and locks eyes with him before slowly pulling back, his cheeks hollowing from the suction. The demon’s hips jerk forward, but Dean pushes them back harder into the edge of the table as he sucks him back down in one fluid motion, never breaking eye contact. 

The demon squeezes his eyes shut and rolls his head back. Dean chuckles and the demon tries to buck forward again. If it’s been awhile since he’s sucked dick, it’s been even longer since he’s been face fucked, but what the hell. Dean pulls his hands back from the other Dean’s hips and snaps the elastic of his panties hard. 

The demon jolts hard into the back of Dean’s throat and snaps his eyes back down. Dean’s eyes slide shut and he groans thickly, dragging his hands down the the back of the demon’s thighs. 

“Goddamn, _yes_ ,” the other Dean breathes, and tugs Dean back gently by his hair until only the head of his cock is behind his lips, “this was the best idea I’ve ever had.” 

He laces the fingers of his other hand into Dean’s hair and gives an experimental thrust forward. Dean just groans around it before looking back up at him and giving him a wink. 

The demon lets out a breathy laugh and says, “Well alright then.” 

There’s barely any pause before he fists his hands in Dean’s hair and pulls his head back, then snaps his hips forward to fuck into his mouth. 

Dean tries to focus on remembering to breathe. 

And remembering to swallow. And to keep his teeth out of the way. And to not tense his jaw. But he can’t think—the demon slams into his mouth and all he can focus on is how fucking hot it is. 

Tears spring to the corners of his eyes and he claws at the back of the other Dean’s thighs.Before Dean can even really catch up to what’s happening, the demon is reaching down and cupping his jaw, pulling his cock out of Dean’s mouth with a pop. 

Dean stares up at the other man in a daze and tries to catch his breath. 

“God knows we look damn pretty on our knees, but I’m pretty sure the deal including something about fucking myself?” The demon grins and drops his panties the rest of the way before kicking them off somewhere toward the kitchen. 

Dean opens his mouth to say, well, to say _something,_ but it comes out as a wheeze that turns into a cough when he stands up. Something about being face-fucked speechless by _himself_ is both insanely hot and insanely _hilarious_ and he ends up rolling his eyes and chuckling hoarsely. 

He clears his throat again and steps into the demon’s space, sliding his hands around to grip his ass and bite at his chin. He has a pretty nice ass, if he does say so himself.

The demon runs a hand up Dean’s arm and back down his chest to rest on his belt buckle. “I’m feeling a little underdressed here.” He pops the belt buckle loose with a practiced efficiency and shoves Dean’s jeans and boxer briefs down his legs in one movement. 

“Wanna see a trick?” The demon waggles his eyebrows at Dean and snaps his fingers, a travel-sized bottle of lube appearing a few inches above his hand. The bottle spins once lazily before he snags it out of the air triumphantly.

Dean narrows his eyes at the stupid grin on the demon’s face, but can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth. He shrugs and nods, “Yeah, no, that was pretty sweet.”

The demon grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “We’re awesome. Now c’mere.” He reaches out and pulls Dean forward a step, almost causing him to trip over the jeans tangled around his knees, then spins him around. 

Dean can guess where this is going and his dick jumps at the thought of being fucked into the hard table by someone who knows exactly how he likes it. He glances back over his shoulder just as a hand comes up to shove him forward roughly. 

“Hey!” This time he does trip, but he catches himself on the edge of the table. “If you knock me out this deal isn’t gonna be as fun as you think. We’re not really into that whole unconscious and bleeding thing.”

The demon chuckles and presses a firm hand between Dean’s shoulder blades, forcing him to lie flat on the table. “It’s alright, Cas should be home any minute and he’d fix you back up for me.” The demon nudges a knee between Dean’s to scoot his legs as far apart as they can go with his jeans around his boots.

“Cas should be wha—?” Dean gasps and collapses against the table as the demon scratches down Dean’s back and sinks to his knees behind him. Ok, this is a thing that’s happening. He jumps and lets out an embarrassingly high pitched noise when the demon bites the underside of his buttcheek before spreading him open with both hands. 

Dean is _beyond_ caring that this is an alternate fucking dimension where he’s some sort of weird demon. He doesn’t care that he has been hopping dimensions for the better part of forty-eight hours. He doesn’t care that this whole situation is that special brand of super fucked up that he is probably going to have to repress forever, because that fucked up situation is currently blowing cool air across his asshole and he can’t do anything except pant against the old growth oak table while it happens. 

“Fuck. Come on,” Dean growls, canting his hips up to give better access, “seriou— _oh._ ” He gasps out as the demon spits directly into Dean’s hole before covering it with his mouth and circling the ring of muscle with his tongue. 

The tongue is slowly worked inside while the demon gently squeezes him in one hand. God, it’s like every wet dream he’s ever had—where everything goes at exactly the right pace and you don’t have to ask for anything. 

Holy shit. By the time the demon has worked a finger—and then a second, and then a third—in beside his tongue, Dean can feel saliva dripping down his shaking thighs and he can’t do anything but claw at the surface of the table. His hips are jerking back into the demon’s face of their own volition and he has no idea what kind of incoherent babble is falling out of his mouth. 

He lets out a choked sounding sob when the fingers are pulled out and he’s left shaking against the table. A moment later strong hands pull his hips up and he feels the head of the demon’s cock nudge against his hole.

The demon leans down and nuzzles at the back of his ear, pushing into him slowly. “You’re so good. So good. Just like I knew you’d be.” The words send a shiver through Dean and he groans.

“It really is a shame you have to head back so—” The other Dean angles his hips up and snaps them forward— “ _Uh_ , soon.”

Dean arches his back and gasps, trying desperately to get a better grip on the table in front of him. His palms are sweaty and slip further up the table with every thrust until he's sprawled, panting, against the cool wood. 

The other Dean leans forward, pressing his hand firmly on the back of Dean's neck, muttering broken praise between panting breaths. Dean's mind scrambles to keep up. The demon fucks into him fast and hard, one hand at the back of his neck and the other gripping his hip hard enough that he'll have bruises for days, and it's so much. He can't focus and when the demon pulls his hips up and slams into him in just the right way, all he hears is static and lights pop in front of his eyes. 

He comes with a broken sob, pressing his forehead into the table as the demon lets out a series of harsh guttural curses before stilling and pulsing deep inside Dean. 

Dean's pretty sure he blacked out for a second there, because when he comes to the other Dean is saying something to him and pulling him up to turn in his arms.

Dean blinks heavily at the other him and lets himself be maneuvered. He distantly thinks he looks pretty damn good like this, his freckles standing out against flushed cheeks. Lips swollen and eyes bright.

“You alright there?” The demon chuckles and brushes Dean's hair back from his sweaty forehead. “You really ain't getting what you need back hom—”

“Wait a second,” Dean interrupts, “was that Enochian?”

The demon raises an eyebrow, reaching down and gently pulling Dean's jeans back into place. “Well, you don't spend a couple a’ millennia shackin’ up with an angel without picking up some of the dialect.” He shrugs as he buckles Dean's belt. “Plus, you gotta admit, the curses have a satisfying edge to ‘em.”

Dean just nods like he understands. Right. Of course. Millennia. Angel. Yep. Totally. He turns to grab his shirt and pull it back on. His fingers slip a bit on the buttons as he keeps nodding dumbly. The exhaustion is starting to catch back up to him with the added bonus of the most mind blowing orgasm he's probably ever had, so all of this was surreal enough without that last little bit of information. 

When he finally glances back up, the demon is watching him intently. He shrugs his jacket back on and clears his throat.

The demon looks away and takes a step back, out of his space. “Alright, well. That was fucking awesome. I'd say we should do it again sometime, but we did have a deal and I am a demon of my word so…” He gestures widely toward the hall that leads toward the basement where the portal awaits.

Dean glances down at the demon's dick pointedly. The demon rolls his eyes and grabs his own jeans off the floor, pulling them on as they walk toward the basement. 

“Alrighty.” The demon claps his hands together and the basement lights all turn on with a pop. “So, I'm gonna open a different portal for ya. One straight back to your world. When you get there, give this to Sam.” He wanders over to a dusty old desk and scribbles something down on the back of an old yellowed piece of paper. “Sam is still a huge nerd in your world, right?”

Dean reaches out and snags the folded paper. “Uh, yeah, pretty sure the kid is a dork in every dimension.” 

The demon grins and nods. “So, yeah, give that to Sammy. It'll explain how to collapse the other portal without setting off a chain reaction and destroying your dimension along with all the others it's connected to.”

“Cool cool cool. Yeah, I'll make sure he gets it.” 

The other Dean turns back to the desk and digs through the drawer for a second before coming up with a stub of chalk. He quickly draws a crude looking sigil in the middle of the floor, a lopsided square with a wobbly circle around it and some runes made of nothing but angles and hastily drawn lines. 

“OK. Done. Stand in the middle there.” The demon points to the middle of the sigil. It really looks like a kindergartener got ahold of a spell book and tried to make up their own demon trap.

“Uh. Are you sure that's how it's supposed to look?”

The demon rolls his eyes. “Yes. I'm sure. What kind of demons does your world have anyway? You ward against them with little folk charms tattooed on your chest but don't recognize demonic magic.” 

“ _Little folk charms?”_ Dean squints at the other man, but steps into the wobbly circle anyway. “Alright. Let's do this.”

The demon smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and steps up to the edge of the circle. He leans in slightly and pulls Dean forward by the collar of his jacket. “Thanks for the romp, kid. It really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Totally worth the smiting.” He kisses Dean softly, pushing his hands into his hair and cupping the back of his skull. 

Dean feels a bit like he's floating, but then he's not because he also feels like he's drowning and burning up at the same time. He can't breathe and he's not sure if he can hear or see because everything's dark and his ears feel like they're covered by something thick and warm. Then all at once he can feel cold stone under his cheek and someone is yelling something but he's not sure what or where. 

The next time Dean opens his eyes, he's in what he is pretty sure is his own bed, and when he turns his head he can see Sam fast asleep folded awkwardly in an armchair that he must have dragged in from the library. Dean sighs and closes his eyes again. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Relief floods Dean’s body at the sound of the familiar rumble. He turns his head toward the other side of the room to where Cas is sitting in a slightly rusted folding chair with a novel from Dean’s collection folded backwards in his hand. Yeah, this inconsiderate asshole is definitely _his_ Cas. 

“You—” Dean clears his throat, “You’re breaking the spine on my book, man.” 

Cas rolls his eyes and sets the book in his lap. Yeah, that cover is never going to lay flat again. “You were asleep for an entire day and wouldn’t let go of my hand,” he grumbles. “My phone died six hours ago.” 

Dean fights back a smile. He’s definitely home.

**Author's Note:**

> Come join in on the fun over on Discord [here](https://discord.gg/GGbw2NP). You can find me on [tumblr](https://pantydean.tumblr.com/) and [pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/crypto).


End file.
